Looking Back

One year ago today, I shut myself into our SUV and sobbed as we drove away from the dearest faces on earth. I followed the square yellow truck northwards, through sleepy Southern towns and flooding Georgia cities, through awe-inspiring mountain passes and quiet peaceful forests. And finally, Maryland. 

A year later, I'm back, and I'm so much richer than I was but one year ago. I've gained more dear, darling faces that I weep to leave. I've gained another home in the beautiful hills of Maryland. I've gained stories of my King's faithfulness and love in times of deepest struggle. I'm back, and I'm blessed. 

One song rings through my mind as I look back on the eighteenth year of my life, the hardest, most painful and the best, most beautiful year of my life. One song in particular that looks backward and marries the tears and the pain with the joy and the hope found only in God.

I never have and never will walk alone.

Standing on this mountaintop

Looking just how far we’ve come

Knowing that for every step

You were with us

Kneeling on this battle ground

Seeing just how much You’ve done

Knowing every victory

Was Your power in us

Scars and struggles on the way

But with joy our hearts can say

Yes, our hearts can say

Never once did we ever walk alone

Never once did You leave us on our own

You are faithful, God, You are faithful

Kneeling on this battle ground

Seeing just how much You’ve done

Knowing every victory

Was Your power in us

Scars and struggles on the way

But with joy our hearts can say

Never once did we ever walk alone

Carried by Your constant grace

Held within Your perfect peace

Never once, no, we never walk alone

Never once did we ever walk alone

Never once did You leave us on our own

You are faithful, God, You are faithful

Every step we are breathing in Your grace

Evermore we’ll be breathing out Your praise

You are faithful, God, You are faithful

You are faithful, God, You are faithful

(Never Once, Matt Redmon)

Home

From my Journal
23 March 2012
1:22 am

I am constantly thinking to myself how much I want to go home. Nearly every other journal entry begins or ends with that confession. But the more I consider, the more I recognize that home is not there anymore. This home that I long for is a childhood memory with all the rosy hues of its kind. It's a place and a time forever enshrined in memory when hardship was a foreigner and tragedy restricted to the theater. My eyes and ears were young and innocent, unpolluted by cynicism, callousness, and pain.

Once a soul lives long enough he or she finds that a true home cannot exist on this earth, in this world -- not that I have resigned myself to some kind of chaotic, depressive world. No. This earth is still green, there is still beauty in the broken, and the Lamb is still on the throne, worthy of glory and honor and adoration and praise.

There is so much goodness in this land, and yet there is not enough to truly tie me to it, for I have tasted -- only just tasted -- true, unspoilt, desperately deep love. I tasted it at the cross and daily my mouth waters for more. It is only natural that I feel not at home here. I am evermore a foreigner in a strange place, a sojourner in a broken land. I'm an ambassador from a world I've never been to, but a city I'm a citizen of,  a home I will always be homesick for.

January 14, 2012

My meditation for the day has been Psalm 121: "I lift up my eyes to the hills. From where does my help come? My help comes from the LORD, who made heaven and earth. He will not let your foot be moved; he who keeps you will not slumber. Behold, he who keeps Israel will neither slumber nor sleep. The LORD is your keeper; the LORD is your shade on your right hand. The sun shall not strike you by day, nor the moon by night. The LORD will keep you from all evil; he will keep your life. The LORD will keep your going out and your coming in from this time forth and forevermore."

A somber passage to be my January soul-song, my driving anthem for a new year. Yet this year of all years I am reminded that sin is present, that suffering is rampant, that hurt is acute. I am reminded that sadness, loneliness, bitterness, and tears are part of the package of a sojourner in this land. I am reminded that our plans, ideals, and desires really mean nothing in light of eternity. The fact of the matter is that we are a people who have wrecked havoc on this land through our selfishness and pride but that there is a God, and He reigns over all with a omnipotent, sovereign, yet merciful and loving hand.

So while sacrifice and pain and ridicule and fear will always be a way of life on Earth, while dreams dashed and plans gone awry will always be mingled with joy, while feelings and relationships will always be hurt, we have a promise of comfort.

In the midst of conflict, even I, with nothing to resent nor complain about, will shed tears and fear the future. Yet in this moment of darkest night, I have felt more comfort and un-alone than I have felt in months. For indeed, I realize now that trials are not necessarily to test our faith or to ensure the depth of it. This trial, at least, is giving me sight of the fruit of my faith. This evening as I sat on my bed, eyes dry and a-burning from tears and body exhausted from a day-like-eternity, I felt the presence of my God. I felt Him, I saw Him, I spoke to Him. He saw me, He embraced me, He spoke back.

Faith is a struggle, dear ones. Never will we sojourners come to a point in this foreign land when faith will be easy or constant. Faith is a fight, a fight 'gainst great beasts of the Enemy. But faith is a fight well worth the taking. For -- listen and believe, friends -- in times of need, our faith will be rewarded with peace, comfort, hope, and sight.

I do not understand everything;

I do not welcome every piece of my life.

But there is hope beyond understanding,

And there is peace to be found in strife.

Take heart, O downcast soul,

Take heart, again I say.

For tomorrow the dawn will come,

Tomorrow will be a new day.

There will be time for tears,

But there will be time for laughter.

If not in this life and world at present,

Then in the Promised Land ever after.

Christmas Meditations

Feast your soul...

Every Christmas Has Its Cares

Nativities and Pruning

(Gerrit van Honthorst, The Nativity)

Today I set up our nativity. As I unrolled each wooden figurine from its cozy cocoon of brown paper and fingered each familiar carved face, I mulled over all that God has done with me in the past year, specifically all the pruning the Gardener has done in my patch. As God has shed this Christmas of all its pleasant extras -- sparse decking of halls, few gifts to give and receive, next to no dear ones to share it with -- I realized how God has been shedding my soul of bonuses, too.

He's cut away so much legalism, all my man-made rules and self-sufficient "salvation"; he's cut away so much baggage from my relationships, the pent-up bitterness and distance from years of tension; he's even cut away much of my perception of self. I'm left with the bare-bones, glorious Gospel, the precious, worthy-to-be-cherished friendships, and the core of who I am by His creative power and through His redemptive blood.

Gone are the trappings and trimmings that I once thought were my faith, my friends, my self. Gone are they with the Christmas garlands and gifts and guests. Here to stay, forever on earth and through eternity, are the pure and simple truths of Scripture.

"Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places, even as he chose us in him before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and blameless before him. In love he predestined us for adoption as sons through Jesus Christ, according to the purpose of his will, to the praise of his glorious grace, with which he has blessed usin the Beloved. In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of his grace, which he lavished upon us, in all wisdom and insight making known to us the mystery of his will, according to his purpose, which he set forth in Christ as a plan for the fullness of time, to unite all things in him, things in heaven and things on earth.

"*In him* we have obtained an inheritance, having been predestined according to the purpose of him who works all things according to the counsel of his will, so that we who were the first to hope in Christ might be to the praise of his glory. In him you also, when you heard the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation, and believed in him, were sealed with the promised Holy Spirit, who is the guarantee of our inheritance until we acquire possession of it, to the praise of his glory.'

-Ephesians 1:3-14 (emphasis added)

"And you were dead in the trespasses and sins in which you once walked, following the course of this world, following the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that is now at work in the sons of disobedience—among whom we all once lived in the passions of our flesh, carrying out the desires of the body and the mind, and were by nature children of wrath, like the rest of mankind. But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ—by grace you have been saved—and raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, so that in the coming ages he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus. For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast. For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them."

Ephesians 2:1-10

"For to us a child is born,
to us a son is given;
and the government shall be upon his shoulder,
and his name shall be called
Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace."

- Isaiah 9:6

Merry Christmas.

Memory and Time

Memories we share together, moments no one else can know.

I will keep them close to me, never let them go.

Ten years have passed since my arrival in this wonderful place I call home. In those ten years I have gained such invaluable friendships, treasured such beautiful moments, and fallen in such deep love. For some, ten years is but another decade in this inevitable cycle we call life, but these ten years have been crucial, are irreplaceable, and will never be forgotten. 

Of all horrid things, leave-taking is the worst.

Good-bye is so hard -- but I'm not saying, "Good-bye." I'm saying, "See you later!"

It's just ten months... Then, I'll be home.

Home.

No place like it.

Tragic Moral Choice

My beloved friend sent out a query to a few friends this evening, and I wanted a place to store my response, as I intend to develop it into an essay of sorts. So, here it is, beginning with my friend's question, for those interested:

I'm writing a paper on tragic moral choice. Let me know your thoughts... 

There is a pounding on the door. Suddenly, the door gives way and the room is filled with armed Gestapo. Pointing their guns at the Christians inside, they harshly demand, "Where are the Jews?" 

What is the Christian to do? Yes, the Jews are hidden in the attic; but to admit this would mean certain death of the innocent women and children hidden there, while to deny that there are Jews hidden there would be a lie, a breaking of God's commandment. To lie or to submit the innocent to death, which should the Christian choose?

My response:

Hmm... I have struggled with this many a time, my friend. 

The immediate thought for me would be to lie and protect the innocent in my care. After all, the Egyptian midwives were blessed by the Lord after lying to Pharaoh just as Rahab was spared by hiding the Israelite spies. 

But at the same time, our Father declares that He will never, ever place His precious children in temptation without also providing a way of escape. To me, the interpretation of that verse indicates that God never places us in circumstances in which our only option is to sin. 

Then, I also consider the experiences we read of other than those outlined in the Bible. Corrie Ten Boom's The Hiding Place comes to mind. Both Corrie and her sister, Nollie, were called to hide hunted Jews in their homes; however, Corrie refused to admit that Jews were living behind her bedroom wall, while Nollie and her children refused to lie. And the Lord blessed them both in their endeavors! 

*sigh* What to do? Given the situation you described, perhaps I would simply refuse to answer the question. Whatever the circumstances, I constantly pray that, when called upon to undergo such interrogation, the Lord would pour out His favor and that the Spirit would fill my lips with the words He deems fit. I think that this is the only way to ensure that we properly honor the Lord in the moment. 

Well, that's my two cents worth for right now... 

Love you so much!
Jane Ellen 

P.S. Don't you like how I effortlessly outlined the two differing sides of the argument and yet never cast my lot with either one? Call me a temporary fence-sitter, but I have yet to make up my mind on this question, though I've pondered it many an hour.

Thoughts, anyone?

Many Partings

Isn't it amazing how changing a medium can coax thoughts into logical sentences. I spent long minutes sitting with this blank "compose" box glaring back at me. All I needed was a late night, a blank journal, and a new ink pen to pin my thoughts down. Finally, I sigh with relief, and copy the entry onto this blog.

I will never cease to understand the constant nudge I feel to publicly post on this very public blog my personal struggles and feelings. Perhaps it is rooted in a desire to help others. No, I'm far too sinful for so pure a desire. It probably has more to do with a strange sort of self-righteousness and false humility. Whatever the case, I post this journal excerpt here, mildly altered to avoid exposing identities and excruciating grammar errors.

6/13/11

I have never been a good journaler, and I don't expect that will change now. However, sometimes I need a thought dump, so I begin a new memoir. Here goes.

The past five weeks or so have been titled by myself, "Many Partings." Actually, the allusion to Tolkien will probably be extended to the whole summer. Why? Well, the obvious (and obscure all at the same time) answer is this: I am moving from my beloved home for 10 months to a new state, where I will live in a big city, attend a large church, and meet numerous people. For an introverted homebody, this is quite a traumatic prospect. Nonetheless, this is not my only reason.

This weekend I have been filled with a melancholy, half-mournful mood, and I think all these "many partings" are the source of my feelings. First, we have numerous literal partings: leaving my family for a trip abroad, "farewelling" new friends and places in Europe, ending relationships from ensembles after a year of hard work, sending off a happy bride and groom, enduring the annual goodbyes with old friends who visit yearly, etc. These experiences crammed into so short a period without having a good, therapeutic cry would be reason enough for a girl to be overwhelmed after a while. Yet, there is more.

I often feel that I am a 60 year old woman trapped in a 16 year old's body. Well, if that has been the case in the past, then my 90th birthday came and went this month. I feel so much more grown up, if that is possible, for not all of my goodbyes have been so straightforward. Some are more allegorical, philosophical, and symbolic, yet no less painful.

I've said goodbye to a beloved friend, who will never be the same after being touched by cancer. Yes, she is still her faith-driven, cheerful, gorgeous self, yet neither her life nor mine will ever be the same again. I've watched and witnessed the first of my childhood chums pledge her troth to her new husband. And even before Hannah walked up the aisle, radiant and glowing with excitement, I shed tears as my dearest friends -- no, my darling sisters -- Ruthie and Elizabee moved toward the alter as bridesmaids. In that split second, I realized how quickly time passes. As a wise woman I know has said many times recently, "In the next ten years, our lives will be filled with the weddings of you children." Life is happening.

And then I confess another parting -- the parting with a dream. My habits of pinning fictitious vignettes and Byronic scenes onto every person I meet is such a painful one. * (See my Dreamer post.) * Even though I know that God has not planned it, I watched a match disintegrate into the mist. Oh! the complications of silly crushes. I am ashamed to admit it, to even use such an inane word, yet I write it down, if for no other reason than my own humbling and the benefit of my own dear daughters one day.

Then I am reminded yet again of how little time I have left in this dear home of mine, and I fall into this horrid sadness. Lord, get me out!

I feel like time is like sand, constantly slipping through my fingers as a friend expressed through an email yesterday. I feel like Frodo, naked and groping in the dark, searching for protection, for something to cling to. All of my relationships, dreams, and normalcy has been kicked from under my feet. I feel like a man being hung at the gallows -- the prop has been moved; now I suffocate.

Look at this. Even as I write the words, I wonder how a girl can claim Christ as Redeemer and Friend and yet write such shallow words. I feel this, and I search for that. Who cares how I feel, and why do I search? There is truth that transcends each circumstance and emotion; there is hope which I have already received. I know that I know that I know. Then why is it so difficult? Why do I not understand His will, much less my own thoughts?

{Being a hormonal girl can be ever so frustrating.}

God, you are my Fast Anchor amidst the swelling seas of uncertainty, confusion, and downright misery. You are my Loving Father who smothers me with constant gifts to grow and mature me. You are the Beloved Bridegroom, enough to satisfy every thirst for intimacy, protection, and love. Grow me into a grateful girl -- not merely content, "gutting out" the godly response -- but wholly and completely dripping with thanksgiving for every painful circumstance and confusing situation.

* Note: I am not suicidal nor in the depths of despair right now. I share the thoughts that came to mind as ink flowed onto paper, and I tend to exaggerate in my constant journey to heights of literary genius. I'm fine, and God is faithful! (But isn't that so sad? My mind is so bothersome. I can't vent my own thoughts without the authoress inside watching for parallelism and pointing out potential phrases just begging for alliteration. Argh. It's kind of like when I cry. The actress inside yanks me over to a mirror, so that I can see what a sorrowful girl ought to look like. I hate feeling so base, fake, and shallow.) Anyways... I forgot what I was saying. ;-) *

MJ

MJ, second from the right, with the inseparable six

A dear friend of mind, MJ online, is in need of prayer. She is undergoing sudden surgery this morning to remove a possibly cancerous tumor from her brain. Praise God, though, she is of the elect and rests completely in His sovereign care and faithfulness. He is good, storm and sunshine.

About two years ago I confessed my habit of analyzing my consistent, vivid dreams. Yesterday morning, my eyes abruptly darted open after a particularly painful one. No evil men seeking my life, no failed pregnancy, just shame. I proved inept and so suffered ridicule, not from strangers, but from my family. This dream will never become reality -- inept though I am, my family will never spurn me because of it. Nonetheless, this troubling dream unsettled me. I started to consider my ways. Do I practice enough? Am I making a fool of myself? Should I give up and start something else? What if my dream put into words all the things my family is thinking?

My soul was completely disquieted, so I turned to the Word, the Bread of Life, my sole Comforter.

Psalm 147:10-11

His delight is not in the strength of the horse,

nor His pleasure in the legs of a man,

but the LORD takes pleasure in those who fear Him,

in those who hope in His steadfast love.

The passage doesn't say that the Lord savors good musicians, or strong bodies, or stifled emotions, or even obedient children (not to say that He doesn't take pleasure in those people).

No, the passage says, "those who fear Him, in those who hope in His steadfast love."

Can we ask for any better? What a glorious God we serve!

Dreamer

(George Dunlop Leslie, Roses)

Unashamedly, I admit to being a hopeless dreamer. I enjoy creating worlds and friends in spare moments. I am often found gazing out windows or at the ground, for I've flittered off to a different time and place. Sometimes, I'll even dream up conversations, surroundings, and histories for my own, real life acquaintances. Few people I meet travel through my mind without me inventing some silly or serious fantasy about them. (Have I scared anyone yet? ;-) ). I love being a dreamer... most of the time.

Then there are days, like today, when my dreams are shattered. Perhaps shattered is too strong a word -- scratched, marred. Actually, the accurate description is that I recognize what my dreams truly are: dreams, nothing more.

*Before going on, at the risk of implying too much, I want to make this clear: I do not currently have or desire a romantic attachment to the subject I here describe. In the flirtatious and presumptuous society we live in, women describing men in admirable lights or their admiration for them is highly flammable.*

I know a young man who is charming, witty, and down-to-earth, yet at the same time he is thoughtful, deep, and intimidating. All who know him respect and adore him. When my thoughts strayed to him, I didn't need to create admirable qualities for him. Granted, plenty of enhancing and assuming occurred, something along the lines of, "Well, he's so this, so he must be that. And he associates with them, so he probably thinks that." I fitted him out and plopped him up on a white charger then stood by to admire my picture. My world seemed a more beautiful and nobler place because he dwelt in it.

But, armor rusts and knights fall. I overheard some gossip about him today, and the stories that issued from one clucking mouth to the other did not line up with my dreams. A principle I dreamed he had and a practice I dreamed he hadn't were, according to the latest, totally reversed. He didn't grossly sin or commit an inconsistency that could justify my abhorrence, but his real lifestyle failed to match my golden creation. Down he plunged.

After consideration, I recognize that his actions were far less surprising than my response to their discovery. I felt disappointed, frightened, and even betrayed. Why? Is he not allowed to be who he is? Why must he fit my mould? He doesn't have to. That is the answer. We all know that humans are sinful and will never live up to the holy standard. Indeed, my personal standards are far from perfect, so fantasizing that others hold the same ones and then feeling scandalized when I find that they do not only brings about harm.

My dreams are nothing more. They are not reality, but sometimes I wish they were.

Sometimes it really hurts to be a dreamer.

Lest We Forget

We may look on in awe at the beauty and serenity of North Florida,

but did they as the boom of cannon and stench of smoke invaded its tranquility?

We may halt and smile for spectators' cameras,

but how could he smile when every moment might be his last?

She may lark about and climb oaks to her heart's content,

but would she feel so young bearing burdens no child should bear?

This is why we don the blue and the grey. This is why we reenact -- "Lest We Forget."

The Fight

Warning: this post has to do with politics, a subject which I readily admit I am far from informed upon, so I'm in way over my head. I welcome random thoughts and diverse opinions, but be forewarned that spiteful and slanderous comments don't get you very far up on my cool-people list (not that my list matters in the grand scheme of things).

Currently, I am enrolled in an online American Government course for college credit. Thus far, I have thoroughly enjoyed myself as I see both historical and practical significance in the subject material. Granted, I have been pleasantly surprised by the fairly unbiased opinion offered by the book; indeed, when I do sense partiality, the authors seem to take a more conservative stance than I anticipated. Nonetheless, portions of the text trouble me, especially when means and ends don't line up.

In a chapter discussing civil liberties ("freedoms protected by constitutional provisions, laws, and practices from certain types of government interference"), the authors narrowed their discussion on religious freedom to religion within public schools. As an example of a commonly debated area, the authors shared that many "committed believers" have made attempts to either "exclude Darwinian evolutionary biology from the school curriculum or to balance it with alternative interpretations such as 'creationism' . . . or 'intelligent design'".

Before I continue, I ask you, gentle reader, to answer this question: what is the point of science? Why do people devote their lives to this discipline? Why is science a strict component of both fundamental and further educations? As I understand it, science has been studied throughout the centuries in an effort to explain the world we live in, to further humans' understanding of themselves and their habitat, to answer the ever-looming questions: where did this come from, how does it work, and why does it exist?

Now that we have that point settled, I'll continue.

After listing various experiments with the proposals of Christian circles, the authors shared the Supreme Court's conclusion that including intelligent design as an alternative to Darwinian evolution was found too religious: "'. . . we conclude that the religious nature of ID [intelligent design] would be readily apparent to an objective observer, adult, or child. . . . The overwhelming evidence at trial established that ID is a religious view, a mere relabeling of creationism, and not a scientific theory.'"

My point of dissension lies in the underlying assumption of the Supreme Court. Obviously, they are concerned with the law of the land and not directly with education. Nonetheless, I sense a shortsightedness in their statement: because intelligent design could be perceived as a religious theory, it is for the birds. Whether you, reader, are a believer or not, this does not make logical sense. If, as I said before, science's purpose is to find the truth about our world, then we cannot discount hypotheses and theories merely on the grounds that they include God. Many issues result from this thinking, issues that I could expound upon, but one specifically burdens my heart.

In the past, I have often wondered why people are so offended by God being included in the science classroom, but now I think I understand. If we concede that God created the earth, then humans have purpose and responsibility. It means that we cannot rightly do whatever we wish -- One exists who will require an account of every minute used or not, a fact that makes even the most righteous man shudder. Teachers and students alike take offense at this, so they shut up and shut out any person or assembly that suggest its possibility -- no -- its probability.

This is the true debate. It sinks far deeper than religious freedoms or impartial curriculum. No, the debate is but a minute piece of an immense puzzle, a mere battle in a monumental war.

It is the fight for a literate, intelligent generation.

It is the fight for Christianity.

There may be more rants regarding my textbook in the future. I don't really care whether anyone reads this or not. I needed a place to vent, and this seemed a perfect outlet. Thanks for being my sounding board. ~JE

Wishes in the Sunlight

Sometimes I wish people could see life through my eyes. That sounds selfish, I know. But when I see people hurting or struggling or regretting, and I hurt, struggle, or regret with them, I have an almost irrisistable urge to put them in my car, buy them a cafe sandwhich, and drive them home. We'll sit in my bedroom, bathing in the sunlight which streams through its windows. Soothing music and black tea will lure all our stories and secrets out, and we'll laugh and dream. Then, we'll gaze in silence out the window, letting the birds and the breeze and the sparkling leaves do all the talking for us.

Together we'll love life and nature and beauty. We'll drink it in, as if time never ran out and life never hurt.

Renewal

"The martyrs in heaven mentioned in Revelation 6:9-11 clearly remember what happened on earth, including the great suffering they underwent. . . This passage argues against the prevalent belief that to remember any unpleasant things would automatically strip us of happiness in heaven. Heaven's joy is not dependent upon an erased mind, but a renewed mind. That will include a sense of the relative greatness of the eternal joys of heaven in comparison to the brevity of our earthly sufferings (Romans 8:18)." -Randy Alcorn

May ya'll's minds be renewed today as you face trials of various kinds!

I Love This Girl...

even if she does intensify an already stressful week and stretches my two hour biology class to feeling like four. For those of ya'll who don't know her, this is my fourteen year old sister, Katie (also known as Hoi-man, kid-sister, Cootie.....).

She and I have grown close together so much over the years. We share (most times willingly) a lot. Late at night, we whisper little secrets and giggle over indescribable silliness that only sisters find funny. We rejoice at each others victories and sympathize with losses. And our spats are usually only reserved to the (lack of) cleanliness in our room. ;)

We are, in short, sisters, best of friends.

Today, however, we learned of a large cyst on her left femur that is causing her great pain and could, if she puts pressure on it, fracture her femur. This whole experience has been one long and tortuous 36-hour roller coaster for more than one reason.

Begin with a very busy and exhausting week of rehearsals for a local opera that I am performing in. Then doctors call having spotted a growth of some sort on a major bone. That's just a little disconcerting. Then a dear sister goes back in for more x-rays as I head to the college -- not where I wanted to be at that moment. When I receive a call from my sister reassuring me that the growth is only a cyst (as opposed to other . . . unpleasantries), I sigh with relief and thankfulness.

Fast forward to lunchtime, when I receive another call from Katie. Enter phrases like "large cyst," "thin femur," "possible fracture," "MRI," "Shans Hospital," "surgery," etc. Elder sisterness kicks in. (By the way, that's the nice way of saying that Jane Ellen has an internal freak out because one of her beloved is endangered.)

But, God is good and faithful and merciful and perfect and everything I could possibly need right now. While at the school, He provided people I could to "gush" to, quiet time to draw from His well of strength, homework to distract me, and peace that surpasses understanding.

After rereading this, I think the wording makes everything seem more scary than it really is right now. Katie is chilling on the couch and churning out folded laundry at a record rate for our family. She has been given a new nickname due to the occasional hopping on one foot she must do: The Dufflepud. I am growing in joyfulness, thanksgiving, trust, and reliance upon the Father.

Can I really ask for more?

Yes, I can. Please pray for our family as we ford this, admittedly, foggy river. I'll be back soon with more updates. Love to you all!

A Mighty Fortress is Our God

This hymn written by Martin Luther truly is one of my favorites. Though we usually sing theologically deep songs at my church, I am filled with delight on the Sundays when we worship with these rich age-old hymns.

A mighty fortress is our God,

A bulwark never failing;

Our helper he, amid the flood

Of mortal ills prevailing:

For still our ancient foe

Doth seek to work us woe;

His craft and pow'r are great

And, armed with cruel hate,

On earth is not his equal.

Did we in our own strength confide,

Our striving would be losing;

Were not the right Man on our side,

The Man of God's own choosing:

Dost ask who that may be?

Christ Jesus it is he;

Lord Sabaoth, his name,

From age to age the same,

And he must win the battle.

And tho this world, with devils filled,

Should threaten to undo us,

We will not fear, for God hath willed

His truth to triumph thro' us:

The Prince of Darkness grim,

We tremble not for him;

His rage we can endure,

For lo, his doom is sure,

On little word shall fell him.

That word above all earthly pow'rs,

No thanks to them, abideth;

The Spirit and the gifts are ours

Thro' him who with us sideth:

Let goods and kindred go,

This mortal life also;

The body they may kill:

God's truth abideth still,

His kingdom is forever.

Born of Inspiration:

Waves crash

over my chest,

pang after

pang of aching

indecision.

Questions, ideas,

murmurings, thoughts.

No peace from

longing and

toil.

The sea inside

tosses and turns

swells and falls

with each

wind.

I maneuver

my ship, my heart

to the shore

where I fly up

the hill.

At the crown

there stands erect

a wooden staff,

a rod with arms,

a cross.

I throw myself

and all my cares

at its foot,

at His feet,

at Him.

Then I know

all is well.

Peace, like a flood,

rushes in.

Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God so that at the proper time He may exalt you, casting all your anxieties on Him, because He cares for you. 1 Peter 5:6-7

Breathe into Me

Here I sit, a young woman in a pastel nightgown with whole grain toast on a crystal plate perched on my lap. My English Breakfast tea in a Victoria and Albert reproduction mug rests upon a homemade Jane Austen coaster at my elbow. Even my pen has a Victorian floral print upon it. The only thing out of place is the music sailing along the wire channels from my iPod to my ears: RED, Breathe into Me.

I won't pretend that I don't like RED, 'cause I do. Some of their songs are so poignant and illustrative and -- what can I say? -- this Chopin, Debussy, Mozart loving music major likes their hard rock style. Nonetheless, it's not the music genre that hits me today as I eat breakfast: it's the words. They so accurately fit my feelings and lifestyle right now. I've been "ignoring [His] words" and "running away from [Him]" to the point that "I don't know myself."

Breathe into Me

And this is how it feels when I ignore the words you spoke to me,

And this is where I lose myself when I keep running away from you,

And this is who I am when, when I don't know myself anymore,

And this is what I choose when it's all left up to me.

Breathe your life into me, I can feel you

I'm falling, falling faster

Breathe your life into me, I still need you

I'm falling, falling

Breathe into me, breathe into me

And this is how it looks when I am standing on the edge

And this is how I break apart when I finally hit the ground

And this is how it hurts when I pretend I don't feel any pain

And this is how I disappear when I throw myself away

Breathe your life into me, I can feel you

I'm falling, falling faster

Breathe your life into me, I still need you

I'm falling, falling

Breathe into me, breathe into me!

"I know your works: you are neither cold nor hot. Would that you were either cold or hot! So, because you are lukewarm, and neither hot nor cold, I will spit you out of my mouth. For you say, I am rich, I have prospered, and I need nothing, not realizing that you are wretched, pitiable, poor, blind, and naked. I counsel you to buy from me gold refined by fire, so that you may be rich, and white garments so that you may clothe yourself and the shame of your nakedness may not be seen, and salve to anoint your eyes, so that you may see. Those whom I love, I reprove and discipline, so be zealous and repent. Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him to sit with me on my throne, as I also conquered and sat down with my Father on his throne. He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches." Revelation 3:15-22

Trust

"I have been called to pass through the deep waters of affliction, but all has been satisfied. The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away, blessed be the name of the Lord. It is his will that my Dearest wife & child should no longer abide with me, and as it is his holy will, I am perfectly reconciled to the sad bereavement, though I deeply mourn my loss. Oh! The consolations of religion! I can willingly submit to anything if God strengthens me. I have joy in knowing that God withholds no good things from them that love and keep his commandments. And he will overrule this Sad, Sad bereavement for good." - Thomas Jonathan "Stonewall" Jackson, qtd. in Beloved Bride

What a beautiful testimony is this excerpt from a letter of General Jackson's! Trust in God's sovereignty has comforted His children for hundreds of years. I hope, pray, and trust that it will never cease to do so!